


Bent, Not Broken

by JLea



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alexandria Safe-Zone, Anal Sex, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Sexual Situations, Completely ignores seasons 7 and 8, Daryl can be clueless, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eugene got lucilled, Eventual Smut, Hurt!Jesus, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, It was a close call for Glenn but he made it, M/M, Manpain, The Hilltop (Walking Dead), and sometimes it's on purpose, post 6x16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2018-06-01 03:34:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6499198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JLea/pseuds/JLea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A routine scouting trip turns bad for Daryl, Jesus, Michonne, and Aaron as they find themselves stranded without a car, surrounded by walkers and on the run from Negan's men. With an injured Jesus, help too far away, and tensions rising between the group, Daryl is forced to face all the feelings he has been keeping buried and hidden since the night they faced Negan. The good and the bad.</p><p>*Spoilers for season 6</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So...this is my first ever fanfic, I hope everyone likes it. Fingers cross. LOL I have slowly fallen in love with this ship after being a dedicated Rickyl fan.

“You sure we can get everything we need from this place,” Daryl asked for what had to be the one hundredth time since they had all climbed into the car and left Alexandria.

Rolling his eyes Jesus made an affirmative sound. “As sure as I was ten minutes ago, and ten minutes before that.”

Daryl glared at him then returned his eyes back to the road. “Just supposed to trust you’re not leadin’ us into more trouble, am I?”

His eyes widened at the barely veiled accusation. “More trouble? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Daryl grunted. “Not like you lot haven’t caused us enough trouble with your so-called reassurances.”

Taken aback by the stark anger in the other man’s tone, before Jesus could even respond, the car was jerked to the side as Daryl narrowly avoided a couple of walkers that came stumbling out of the tree line. He lurched forward as the car veered sideways before Daryl could right it again.

A loud crack vibrated through the air out of nowhere and one of the back wheels blew out, sending the car careening, before it screeched to a stop. Tossed, jostled and thrown, Jesus scrambled to hold tight to his seat belt, eyes clamped shut as the car tipped and began to roll.

When everything finally came to a stop, he turned to Daryl who was shaking his head as if to clear it. “You okay?”

Daryl nodded, glancing into to the back. “How ‘bout you two?”

In the back seat Aaron and Michonne let out dual groans. 

“Sore but otherwise good by the looks of things,” Michonne answered.

Heart in his throat, Jesus stared into the rear view mirror seeing the small group of walkers had grown and they now had a large party headed their way. That wasn’t good. 

“Fuck. Walkers.”

Daryl looked back, and Jesus knew the moment he saw them, his eyes widening. “We gotta get outta here, now!”

The four of the scrambled out of the now mangled car, weapons at the ready even as they darted their gazes around wildly for some sort of cover or escape route.

As the walkers came at them they took them out, working as a team, everyone at each other’s backs until Aaron broke away.

“What the fuck?” he shouted after him.

Aaron reached in to the car and it was then that Jesus saw what the man had been after. His pistol. The man started firing talking out more but his absence had left a gap in their defences and before he knew it, a surprise attacker had snuck in close.

Falling hard in the paved footpath, Jesus grunted with the pain of a fist slamming into the side of his face. The blow struck with enough precision to let him know he was dealing with humans, and given how close they were to Negan’s compound, he knew how serious their situation was.

Dammit. So much for a simple scouting trip. This thing was quickly deteriorating.

Disorientated and hurting, Jesus could hear grunts, snarls, and the occasional groan coming from all sides.

“Daryl! Aaron! Michonne!” he shouted, looking around for those who had been on the run with him.

“Shut the bitch up.” Another blow struck him, then a sharp jab of pain sliced down his leg as he reached out helplessly in an attempt to find the other members of his team. The hard cold press of metal against his temple had him freezing in place, his heart rate picking up and his eyes slamming shut at the sound of the gun cocking.

“No!” The deafening roar filled the air as the gun was pulled away from him and a shot went off. Jesus didn’t even have enough time to open his eyes before he was lifted into the air. Expecting to be thrown, he was surprised when his stomach made contact with a wide shoulder inside.

“Ommpf.” Finding himself upside down, a denim-encased ass in front of his eyes, Jesus began to struggling. “Fuck. Put me down you fucker!”

The arm pinning him to the broad shoulder tightened as the man beneath him growled. “Would you shut up?”

_Daryl?_

“He’s right. What kind of a getaway is it if you give away our position?” Michonne muttered quietly as she ran along beside them, helping to support a limping Aaron.

“We’re not going to make much of a getaway if this idiot passes out while carrying me,” he bitched, trying and failing to pull himself up. It hadn’t been that long since Daryl had been shot by Dwight and the memory of how close they had all come to losing the man still made him cringe. “You were barely healed enough to come in the first place. Your shoulder can’t take this Daryl, and I can run myself.”

“Enough,” Daryl bit out as he picked up his pace.

The jarring of solid bone into his diaphragm had him remaining silent as they weaved through the forest to some unknown destination. Everything blurred together and he knew if it were left up to him, Jesus wouldn’t have a clue what direction home was in. But Daryl seemed to know exactly where he was going as he ran along some unseen path. 

The blood rushing to his head was making his head pound when he heard the scraping of wood, and a door opening, but couldn’t turn around to see. Feeling dizzy, Jesus couldn’t focus, and gave out a startled yelp when he was suddenly dumped onto a bed.

“What the hell?”

Daryl didn’t even acknowledge him, the arrogant prick strutting his way into another room, leaving Jesus gaping at his retreating back.

“Where the hell are we?”

“Daryl and I found this place a while back on a scouting trip. We’ll be safe here, but you might want to calm down,” Aaron suggested, shuffling at the end of the bed.

He raised an incredulous brow at the man. “Are you kidding me? Calm down? We need to make a plan and get back to Alexandria or Hilltop. We can’t stop for a rest of some shit.”

Aaron fidgeted, sending a distressed look in Michonne’s direction. “Maybe it’s shock.”

Jesus blinked at Aaron. Shock? 

Michonne grimaced, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back against a far wall. Her expression of concern and alertness unsettled him. “That or an infection has already set in and it’s making the man loopy.”

Darting his gaze between them, he frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Just...take a deep breath and then look down at your right leg,” Aaron said slowly, cautiously.

He did as Aaron asked, eyes widening in surprise and then sudden pain at the large, gaping wound there. “Oh. Oh, ow. Fuck, that hurts.”

Bile rose in his throat as the pain hit him full force. He really shouldn’t have looked.

“You okay?” Aaron asked.

He didn’t get a chance to respond before Daryl returned with what looked like an old medical kit in his hand, a weird ass looking flower plant thing and some loose bits of material. 

He watched silently as Daryl handed the plant to Michonne. “Crush this.”

Michonne did as Daryl directed without batting an eyelash.

“I’m gonna to have ta clean it. See how bad,” the older man informed him. With a grimace, he added, “This’ll hurt like a bitch.”

That was all the warning he received before Daryl grabbed the ruined material on his pants leg and ripped to make the tear larger. Next thing Jesus knew, searing pain flooded his body as Daryl worked diligently to clean and disinfect the area. 

“Listen, this is seriously unnecessary,” he gritted out. “Let’s just make our way back and I can have it looked at then.”

Daryl grunted, continuing to apply first aid and all round ignoring Jesus. Michonne handed over the crushed plant, and Jesus winced as it was applied.

“Ah, hello. Anyone home? I said it’s fine, dude.”

“Don’t call me _dude_.”

He let out a frustrated huff. “ _That_ he responds to.”

Daryl smiled benignly, as if dealing with a temperamental child. “There. Keep off it.”

With that order, Daryl collected his supplies and left the room again, Jesus staring after him with an expression somewhere between shocked and seriously pissed.

“What the hell?”

Aaron snickered from where he had sat on the end of the mattress. “What did you do to piss him off...again that is?”

Jesus flipped him the bird, muttering to himself. “Who knows. Man can be so damn temperamental. Screw him. I’m not sitting here when we have plans to make. Where’s that walkie that Rick gave us for emergencies?”

Michonne sighed. “Daryl’s got it and is contacting him now. We can’t go until you’re good to move on your own. It’s either wait or we leave you here because you’ll just slow us down, and we’re choosing to wait. So shut up and be a little more reasonable.”

He didn’t want to be reasonable. He was pissed. Daryl was being a prick again and Jesus couldn’t for the life of him work out why. He thought they had worked through all their initial shit. As much as one could work through anything with Daryl Dixon.  
Sometimes he swore Daryl only had two settings. Yes, Rick. And fuck you prick.

Poetic? Sure. Annoying? As fuck.

Not that he hadn’t witnessed the way Daryl interacted with a few other members of his group, but they were all so different like when his eyes and voice would soften while talking to Judith or Carl, and his willingness to openly touch and be touched by Rick and Carol while he spoke to them. All the changes in Daryl were there but so minute that you had to really be paying attention to notice them.

Which he did...pay attention that is. Jesus couldn’t help himself. The man captivated him in a way that reminded him of one extremely amusing song pre-world ending.

>   
>  “At the same time, I wanna hug you, I wanna wrap my hands around your neck. You're an asshole but I lo—”  
> 

Whoa, that wasn’t a verse or thought he was prepared to finish right then.

His fury bled over into himself. How many times had he been taught not to hope? He had learnt early on not to expect anything. Hope was for those who had the luxury to do so, and after the rough start he had faced in this new world, Jesus had learnt it was for those who deserved, too. He was neither of those now. Yet somehow, he had managed to still hold on to the possibility of finding and having a connection with someone.

He had no one to blame but himself…and the surly prick who, by all appearances, had the emotional range of a toddler.

Making to stand, the moment Jesus applied pressure to his leg, he crumbled to the ground with a shout. Daryl came storming into the room, eyes blazing as he searched the area, even as Michonne and Aaron moved forward to help him. When Daryl’s gaze landed on Jesus, his face morphed into a series of expressions from concern, annoyance, and exasperation.

“What are ya doing?” Daryl all but growled. “Told you to sit.”

From his position on the ground, Jesus rolled his eyes, trying very hard not to let the man get to him. “And I told you we need to get going.”

“Not with poison running through you.” Daryl moved closer, reaching out to wrap his hand around Jesus’s wrist and pulling him up. An arm wound around him for support when he stumbled, bringing them closer together. A rush of breath left Jesus at the close proximity of the other man, when suddenly Daryl’s words hit him.

“Wait…poison?”

“Yeah,” Daryl said, voice lower than it had been before. Jesus could have sworn Daryl’s eyes had even softened slightly. “I’m fairly certain it was crab’s eye or something close to is. I doubt there was enough to kill you but it could still make you pretty sick. It’s why I treated your wound. The yarrow should help stop the infection spreading. I’ve seen what it can do if left, and it’s not pretty.”

Jesus cleared his throat, desperately trying to ignore the way his body felt pressed up against the solid brick wall masquerading as Daryl’s body. “How have I never heard of that? And how did I get poisoned?”

“I saw something coating their blades when Negan’s men attacked. Remember one of your group saying ’bout crab’s eye when...”

“When?”

Daryl’s eyes dimmed, his face shutting down. “When we was gettin’ treated after Negan. Figured that’s what it was. Won’t know for sure til you show signs. Either way movin’ would be bad. Should avoid increasin’ blood flow and all that shit. So do us all a favour…keep off the leg.”

Biting his bottom lip, Jesus nodded, allowing Daryl to ease him back down to the bed. The older man was halfway out the door before his words caught up to him. “Where are you going?”

He winced at how needy he sounded.

“To contact Rick. We’re in the middle of a clusterfuck with targets painted on our backs,” Daryl threw over his shoulder. “Once we touch base with Rick, we can work out how to get home.”

He glanced over at Michonne and Aaron who appeared to be in deep conversation and having been studiously ignoring his and Daryl’s interaction. 

Jesus sighed, flopping back onto the thin mattress and staring up at the ceiling. As much as it pained him to admit it, Daryl was right. All they could do was wait and see if he reacted to the poison, though Daryl’s optimism encouraged him. Because if Daryl Dixon openly showed signs of positivity then something was going right for once. Or it was the end of the world, but since that had happened already, Jesus figured it couldn’t hurt to think on the brighter side of life.

At least that was what he was trying to tell himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Daryl glanced outside at the oncoming darkness as night slowly set in. The wind swept into the room through a few of the tiny cracks he and Aaron hadn’t managed to cover up last time. For the most part the place would be secure for the night as long as they had no further issues with Negan’s men. 

Even the mere thought made his insides knot. He’d barely managed to pull himself together earlier when those bastards had gone after Jesus. Daryl knew he was in no position to be facing them again any time soon. Physically or otherwise. And he hated himself for it. What good was he if he couldn’t fight?

Or maybe that was the point. After coming face to face with the madman and losing Abraham so horrifically in the line-up, Daryl could fight, he just wasn’t sure it did any good any more. Not even in the aftermath of Terminus had Daryl felt so completely hollow.

Listening to the sounds off in the distance, Daryl noted the noise levels had begun to drop which at least meant the walkers remaining weren’t heading in their direction. 

They were as safe as they could be for now. 

What he needed to do was stop dwelling on things he couldn’t change and contact Rick. If anytime were an emergency, it would be now.

Groaning with frustration, Daryl pulled out the walkie and tried raising Rick on it again.

“Rick. You there?”

As he waited for a response, Daryl briefly wondered if they should come up with some sort of code names while using these things. Anyone could be listening in, right? That’s why all their conversations were cryptic and coded themselves. Locations were given zone names and each zone had a safe house Daryl and a few others had set up in the last few weeks. Meeting areas were given numbers that wouldn’t mean anything to anyone not in the know as well.

“What happened?” came the eventual reply from his leader.  
“Crashed car. Walkers, then ambush,” he said, keeping it brief as he moved to sit in a chair that had been pulled up the mostly concealed window, resting his elbows on his knees.

Rick cursed. “How bad? You need back-up?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed. “Yeah could use the help. Not so bad as it could be, not great neither.”

His frustration grew as he tried to pick his words carefully just in case anyone was listening in.

“Which zone did you end up in?”

“Eleven.”

“Any casualties?”

He hesitated for a moment, not wanting to give any more names away. With a snort he said, “Kinda. The almighty's kid took a good blow, not sure how he’ll fare.”

“Fuck, okay, just hold your position. We can probably get someone to you so—”

“No,” he said, cutting Rick off. “Not tonight. It’ll be too dangerous. Come ‘n the mornin’. It’ll give us enough time to know what we’re dealing with.”

“I don’t like it, but you’ve got a point.” Rick conceded. “We’ll be there first thing.”

“We?”

“I’m coming.”

“Rick, man. Ya haven’t left si—”

“I know, and it’s ‘bout time I did. Not leaving you out there, brother.”

Daryl sucked in a breath, trying hard not to reveal how important those words were to him. “I’ll make contact if we need anythin’.”

“Keep them safe. Keep yourself safe till we get there,” Rick said softly. “And for the love of god, don’t do anythin’ heroic or some shit, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I mean it,” Rick said with enough seriousness it made Daryl stop and really listen to him. “Listen, is he gonna be okay?”

He. Meaning Jesus. Fuck. Of course Rick knew. 

Squeezing his eyes shut, he whispered, “I think so. Won’t know for sure for some time yet. Though no sign is a good sign, I reckon.”

“You sure you can last until then?”

“Sure we don’t have no choice ‘bout it. Tomorrow Rick.”

“Tomorrow,” was the other man’s only reply before things went quiet.

Straightening from his hunched position, Daryl groaned as the aches from the previous fight began to set in. Fuck, he was getting too old for this shit.

“You okay?”

He turned to Michonne, attempting to offer up a smile, knowing it feel flat. “All good. You?”

She shrugged, pushing herself off the door frame and moving closer to him. “We’ll be fine. Jesus isn’t showing any symptoms yet, Aaron’s keeping an eye on him. That’s good right?”

Daryl grunted. “Good enough, for now.”

Things were quiet between them for a moment, then Michonne broke the silence. “It’s okay, you know?”

“What?” He asked, not really wanting an answer but knowing the woman wouldn’t give up until she gave him her opinion. She may be a badass, but she was also a pain in the ass.

Daryl was forced to look at her when she didn’t answer and immediately regretted it. Her expression, a mixture of concern and understanding told him that she too knew the very thing Daryl had hoped to keep to himself.

“It’s okay to care about him, and to hate him a little at the same time.”

Standing up abruptly Daryl moved further away from her, adopting a more defensive stance. “What the hell ya on ‘bout woman?”

Michonne didn’t rise to bait, simply arching a brow at him. “You’re like a little boy on the playground with him. Hell, both of you are. Have been from the start. But now there’s this underlying anger from you, and I get where it’s coming from. You need to remember that it’s not his fault though.”

“Ain’t it though?” He snapped, feeling the dams open up and his anger pour out. “If Rick and me hadn’t met him, if the prick hadn’t stolen our truck then we’d never have met them. And if we don’t meet them then-”

“Then what, Daryl? We wouldn’t have met Negan?” Michonne challenged him. “Accept that we met Negan’s group long before then, and you know it.”

Choosing not to dwell, Daryl shoved the walkie back into his jacket pocket and made his way inside the bedroom to check on Jesus. You know, to make sure he wasn’t about to turn or something. Not because he cared. When he reached the room, he found Jesus drifting off to sleep, Aaron curled in a chair beside the bed already snoring his head off, his sore ankle propped up on the old, half broken side table. 

“Everything okay?” Jesus asked softly, eyes barely open.

“Yeah. Just checked in with Rick. They’ll be comin’ in the morning.” 

That had Jesus’ eyes widening as he struggled to prop himself up on his elbows. “They won’t send help?”

He shook his head. “I told them not to. Can’t risk it. No point riskin’ no one else.”

“What if the saviors find us first?” Jesus worried his bottom lip. “They could have easily tracked us.”

“Not possible. Not only is it too dark to track now, but the one’s we left before we took off weren’t in great shape. I doubt they had a chance. Nah, our main worry will come mornin’ if they send others out to find out what happened to their people. With any luck we’ll be long gone.”

“Knew you’d keep us safe,” Jesus whispered so quietly, Daryl wasn’t sure he was mean to hear it. 

He fought not to preen at the man’s belief in him and shrugged. “Easy to do when the place was already set up for somethin’ just like this.”

“A place you set up. You’re attempt at being humble is flawed,” Jesus drawled, though Daryl could see traces of humour in his eyes. “So you really think we’ll be good until tomorrow?”

“Don’t know for sure,” he admitted with a sigh. “But we aren’t going anywhere until all that poison has worked its way out of you anyway, so it don’t matter much. I think I managed to stop the spread but as I said there could be trace amounts. Enough to leave you feeling sick and weak for a time.”

“Sick?” Jesus fidgeted. “What do you mean sick?”

“Kinda like a bad case of the flu, I guess.”

Jesus pursed his lips. “Good to know while I feel as though I could sleep for a year.”

“Then sleep,” Daryl said gently, nudging the younger man flat onto the bed, barely avoiding grinning when Jesus went without a fight. He reached down to the end of the bed and grabbed the lone blanket still there. Shaking it out, Daryl spread it over Jesus. “You rest and when we can, we’ll make our move.”

“Okay,” Jesus mumbled, already half asleep, a thin sheen of sweat beginning to glisten on his forehead. “Just…just don’t go.”

Something in Jesus’ vulnerable, sleep-addled plea made him frown and he glanced up in time to see Michonne shaking her head at him. “Told you. You need to work through it all. You stay. I’m going to keep watch.”

Biting down hard on his lip, Daryl glared at Michonne’s retreating back. He knew she had a point. Knew his issues ran deeper than he wanted to admit. But she was wrong about one thing. He had never, and would never, care about Paul Rovia.

Or at least that’s what he was trying to tell himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group are awoken by some surprise visitors, but Jesus finds it even more shocking when he realizes he knows one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone likes this next chapter. It kind of leaves off on a cliffhanger so I am working already working on the next one and hope to have it up by tomorrow at the latest. :)

A hand clamping down on his mouth woke Jesus, cutting off a scream. He huffed out an irritated sound when he recognized Daryl’s face above him. He could tell it was still early, the sun not even up yet. Jesus knew he had only managed a few hours of sleep, his body feeling weighed down and bruised. The older man slid his hand away, taking his warmth with him and bringing a finger to his lips.

“What the fu—”

“Shhh,” Daryl hissed.

Aaron shot upright, blinking in a daze. “Wha—”

Daryl thumped Aaron on the shoulder, darting a glare between the two. “Shut. Up.”

Well, excuse them!

Jesus frowned, mouth opening to throw an amazingly thought-out, highly imaginative insult when he heard a creak sounding from somewhere just outside the cabin. Eyes widening, he met Daryl’s gaze and could read everything there.

Somehow they had been found. 

His pulse picked up as panic set in. Jesus had difficulty focusing, his brain fuzzy and slightly confused with the poison still trying to work its way out of his system.

Daryl tilted his head to the side, indicating the doorway Jesus had seen both Daryl and Michonne enter through earlier. With a tug, Daryl pulled him from the cocoon of the comfortable bed. Jesus had no choice but to stumble along behind him, very aware of the tight grip Daryl kept on his wrist. Pain shot up his leg but it was nothing compared to the fear encompassing him. Injured and unarmed. He didn’t like those odds.

Jesus glanced around barely getting a chance to take in the room as Michonne joined them and they made their way to another doorway towards the back of the house. Thinking it strange, because surely whoever their visitors were, they would have guarded the back too, Jesus came to a standstill when he realized the door lead to a patio. Or at least, where one used to be.

Now there was nothing but a steep drop leading to god knew what, which explained why no one was waiting for them. He looked around for some kind of ladder or rope. He frowned when he saw nothing, just the steep incline followed by a whole lot of empty air and a landing that did not seem the least bit viable.

What did Daryl want them to do…jump?

Under normal circumstances he would have been more than ready give it a try, but Jesus felt like he was more likely to tumble off the edge and break once he hit the ground.

“Umm, guys. Hate to break it to you but there is no way out,” he whispered, leaning into Daryl more as he began to feel his legs tremble from the simple strain of standing.

Oh, he was fucked. And not in a good way.

Daryl grunted, winding an arm around Jesus told hold him up right. “No shit, Sherlock.”

“Oh god. You really mean for us to jump, don’t you? What is it with you people and always doing things the hard way?”

“There is _no other way_ ,”

“I’m not going to make that. It’s at least twenty feet, if not more,” he said, feeling like that should have been more than obvious. Shit, what was with him? Did he suddenly lose his balls with the poison? Acting all damsel in distress, fainting and delicate. Begging Daryl not to leave his side as he slept and now he was what...too fucking scared to jump to safety? “Screw it. Let’s do this already.”

Daryl glanced at him with a frown. “I’m going to have to lift you up. Then I’ll jump down with you in my arms.”

At least the guy looked as apologetic as he did uncomfortable about it. Well, actually, at least he wasn’t considering leaving him behind this time.

Jesus nodded, knowing he couldn’t make the decline by himself. He’d just tumble and fall, possibly breaking his neck in the meantime. “Okay, I can do this. We ca—”

He yelped out loud as Daryl swung him up into his arms bridal style, which was both humiliating and comforting. He had never had such confusing and contradictory emotions before. This man left him feeling off center. The others shushed him with matching glares which he returned with a huff. 

“A little warning would have helped,” he muttered, stiffening in Daryl’s arms when the front door to the cabin slammed open.

“Fuck. We’re outta time,” Daryl snarled.

That was all the warning he got before Daryl practically catapulted over the side off the edge of the patio. Jesus barely had time to wind his arms around Daryl’s neck as they skidded down the side of the drop, landing abruptly at the bottom where Daryl stumbled a few step. The jarring sensation making him groan in pain.

“Okay, that tickled…just a little,” he moaned.

Daryl made some sort of unintelligible grunt as he secured his hold on Jesus and ran like the hounds of hell were chasing him. Given the shouts and gunfire that erupted through the night air, Jesus fought the urge to look back and see if that were the case.

Aaron and Michonne raced behind them by only a few steps, sheer determination etching their features as they weaved in and around the dense forest even as those chasing them grew closer. His heart thudded in his chest when Daryl came to an abrupt stop but his voice hadn’t caught up to him yet and before he could ask what the older man had planned, Jesus found himself placed on his unsteady feet.

His legs almost gave out and he would have crashed to the ground if it weren’t for Michonne’s quick movements. “Jesus Christ.”

“So they call me,” he muttered, not really conscious of what he had said until he heard Aaron’s strained laugh.

“Now’s probably not the best time for jokes,” Aaron whispered. 

Pushing himself away to try and stand on his own two feet, Jesus staggered. His legs, back, and head ached, every muscle in his body felt like it were on fire, but he forced himself to focus on the situation. Jesus shook his head to try and clear it, attempting to assess every possible advantage they may have.

It wasn't looking good.

He watched in horror as Daryl widened the gap between his feet as he faced the oncoming attack. Oh god. The man was insane. Jesus knew the stance of someone who was preparing to fight by lowering their center of gravity. Jesus had to tamper down on the insane urge to call out to the man, to reach out and drag him back. As little as he knew Daryl, he wasn’t stupid enough to think a move like that would be welcomed.

“Daryl. What the hell are you doing?” Michonne hissed.

“No point runnin’. We won’t get far and then we’ll be lost too,” Daryl responded over his shoulder.

“We’re out numbered. We have to keep going. We have no choice,” Michonne pressed on, clearly hoping to convince Daryl to keep going.

“Always gotta choice,” Daryl murmured softly.

His breath stuck in his throat as he caught sight of the shadowed figures making their way closer. Matching smirks played on their faces as the group of around eight approached, stalking toward them as if they were prey and lighting up the nearby areas with their torches.

“Jesus. Good to see you again.”

Jesus stood there, blank, amazed, and very shaken. He knew the voice of their would-be attackers.

“Christian?” A faint thread of hysteria was in the back of his voice.

A sensation of intense sickness and desolation swept over him. Strange and disquieting thoughts began to race through his mind. Christian had been his one true friend when the world had gone to shit. Having similar backgrounds, he and Christian had become close as they fought to survive and made their way to Hilltop. They had done it all together until the day Negan’s men had come to them. He remembered the harsh screaming of those around him as the young boy Rory had been beaten to death in front of them. Christian had been livid and attacked the saviors only to be dragged away. That had been the last time he had seen his friend. Jesus had assumed he was dead.

So how was he here now? And with them?

A cruel laughed met his shock. “Miss me, _sweetheart_?”

_Oh god._

Jesus’s skin crawled at the endearment. “Don’t call me that.”

“You’ve never had an issue with it before,” Christian leered.

Jesus swallowed hard. “Stop.”

Casting a quick look toward Daryl, Jesus saw him stiffen.

Christian must have caught the move because he laughed. “Oh, how precious. Do we have a thing for our little hero here? How quickly you got over me. That hurts. Though you always were pretty easy, weren’t you?”

Christian's taunts were like vicious blades slicing through him, destroying the only good thing he had ever had, however brief or temporary.

“Enough,” Daryl snarled, pointedly aiming his gun directly at Christian.

His former lover grinned at Daryl. “You might just be in luck, sweetheart. Seems this one is more than prepared to be your knight in shining armour.”

Jesus had no time to react as Daryl moved forward suddenly. Within seconds, Daryl had gone from only standing two meters in front of him to rushing at their attackers. Daryl moved with a speed and skill Jesus hadn’t expected from him. Beside him Aaron began shooting even as Michonne raced forward with a curse, her sword drawn and striking the nearest assailant’s back and through to his sternum in something akin to the image of Raphael’s _St. Michael Vanquishing Satan_ painting. 

Not for the first time Jesus was wondering just who the hell these people really were.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a face off with too many Saviors, help comes just in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been longer than I said it would to get this chapter up. Because of that I have written another small chapter from Jesus perspective which I will be uploading straight after! :)

Blind raged shot through Daryl. Watching and listening as that Christian bastard taunted and humiliated Jesus was a harsh reminder of his own past. His so-called father had enjoyed throwing barbs his way, putting Daryl down for no other reason than he could. Even Merle, as much as he tried to be a good brother inevitably fell back on habit, embarrassing and harassing Daryl every chance he got. He was not a perfect man, would never claimed to be, yet even Daryl would never be so cruel.

Before he knew he was acting, Daryl launched himself forward. Guns went off, and while Daryl should have been concerned he was there target, the need to physically lash out and hurt someone consumed him.

Driving his fist into the nearest asshole, he withdrew his knife and plowed into Christian who he narrowly missed. Focusing on the guys movements Daryl predicted where his would-be attacker was going to be and thrust out hard with his knife. He felt his weapon meeting resistance before his eyes could even register that he'd caught Christian right in the belly, a good four feet away and with his own weapon already mid-swing.

Christian screamed and spasmed backward, his hands automatically going to the deep puncture wound above his stomach. Blood bloomed out of the wound, a bright hot flower, spreading and soaking the cloth. Falling to his knees, Christian tilted forward with a grunt of pain, but it wasn’t enough for Daryl. Raising his knife, Daryl struck the blade forward, impaling it into the other man’s head before retracting it.

The others were taken aback for a few seconds, Daryl able to hear a soft intake of breath, and then two of their enemies charged at once. Daryl spun his knife, the blade whistling through the air. The move was met with two howls of pain. The fabric of the men’s shirts flapped open, followed by skin, a testament to how ridiculously sharp the blade was as it had sliced clean through the cloth and leather.

One of the men pulled his arm back for what Daryl thought of as the brute force swing. Daryl had no idea why people liked to do that, since it was basically telegraphing their next move. All brute, no brain behind it. He had half a second to consider _torso or arm_ and then swiped his blade at the guy’s hand. A bigger gamble, since the hand was a smaller target, thus making most people more likely to miss. But Daryl wasn’t most people. 

Blood splattered out over the concrete, just as Daryl sensed another guy who had also approached, creeping up on him when it was too late to properly turn around. Instead, he thrust backward with the heel of his knife, a blunt hit that landed squarely on the man's chest. The guy grunted, a sudden expulsion of air, giving Daryl enough time to sweep a leg out, taking the other man’s out from under him. Half-crouching and bracing the weapon with his body so he could put his whole weight into it, Daryl waited for the next attack.

He didn’t have to wait long as yet more of the group moved in. Beside him Michonne cursed as they realized just how many of them had been hiding in the dark just out of their line of sight. They should have known better. Saviors never traveled in small groups.

Just as it looked like things would take a turn for the worse, the man closest to Daryl frozen, eyes widening as he stared down. Daryl followed his gaze just as surprised to see blood spread across his chest before the man crumpled to the ground. Another then another fell and it was then that Daryl glanced up and sucked in his breath.

“Rick.”

“Looks like you're having fun,” his friend quipped almost playfully. “Mind if we join in?”

With him Rick had brought Abraham and Sasha. And a shit ton a guns.

Never more grateful to see Rick, he nodded. “Sure, was just warmin’ them up for ya.”

That was all the warning anyone got before all hell broke loose. Gunfire and shouts filled the area and Daryl only had a moment's hesitation before he turned and reached for Jesus. The younger man was trembling and Daryl knew he would only be a liability right then.

“Come’ere.”

Jesus grunted when Daryl picked him up and placed him behind a couple of thick trees.

“Daryl. They need help,” Jesus panted, the pain and fever clearly having set in.

“Not by the likes of you.” Jesus looked like he was about to argue and Daryl glared at him. “Ya useless right now. Sit ‘ere and shut up while we try to get outta this alive.”

“I...okay,” Jesus relented. Curled in as he was the younger man looked so vulnerable, Daryl was hesitant to leave him.

Shocked by his own thought, Daryl shook his head clear ad handed his knife over. “Take this. Trees at ya back. I’ll come back.”

Eyes wide, Jesus stared at the weapon with confusion. “What about you?”

“I’ll grab somethin’ from Rick.”

He didn’t explain himself further as he moved to join his friends. Daryl immediately regretted his decision when he heard Abraham shout out something that sounded vaguely like _get out of the way_ when an explosion lit up the area, sending him hurtling backward.

He landed on the ground with a groan, blinking in a daze as he surveyed the area, seeing nothing but debris falling from the sky and a few charred corpses at first. Panic welled in him even as he struggled to pull himself up.

Fuck. Rick, Michonne, the others…

A chuckle started him out of his overwhelming fear and he looked up to see Abraham, grinning like a loon with a buzuka resting on his shoulder.

“Christ, Abraham. A little warning next time,” Rick yelled as he picked himself up off the forest floor.

The red haired men shrugged. “I said get out of the way.”

Daryl narrowed his eyes. “One, work on ya fuckin’ warnings. Two, that’s mine.”

“Aww, come on now. Gotta learnt to share a little, Daryl.”

“I’ll share my fist with ya face,” he muttered, checking out the area.

All but maybe three of their attackers were down for good and he watched as Michonne moved in to finish them off. Seeing the mess that had been made, it was a fucking miracle that none of them had been taken out by the blast. Hell, Daryl almost was.

Daryl grunted, shooting a scathing look at Abraham. “That was stupid, man.”

“Agreed,” Rick added with a dangerous glare of his own. They made eye contact, and while Daryl could read the slightly crazed look in his friend’s face, it was slowly overtaken by overwhelming relief as Rick’s eyes moved between Daryl and Michonne. “You okay?”

Daryl shared a look with Michonne, both knowing Rick meant the two of them more than anyone else. 

“We’re good,” Michonne answered for them, moving towards Rick in an attempt to sooth him.

Daryl was glad. The man’s eyes were still a little too wild.

A groan had him spinning and Daryl immediately remembered Jesus.

“Dammit.” Skidding around the tree, Daryl let out a sigh of relief to see a relatively unscathed Jesus still propped up against the tree. Reaching out for him, he pulled back quickly when Jesus began to thrash about, concerned about the younger man. “Paul? You good?”

Jesus stared up at him blearily and nodded slowly. “I-I’m okay. I think.”

And for some reason Daryl refused to focus on, he could suddenly breathe easier.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesus isn't feeling too well and the fever isn't helping him keep his mouth shut.

Watching Daryl leave, an unexplainable panic set in and before he realized what he was doing, Jesus was struggling to pull himself up. He hadn’t even moved a step when an explosion, blinding and deafening encompassed the small area, sending Jesus hurtling back toward the ground. Wind knocked out of him, disorienting him. Jesus gasped in pain as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. 

Eyes burning and filled with water, he panicked when he couldn’t immediately see. All his senses felt muted. Shifting is upper body around he felt what he thought was the tree he had been up against and moved to support himself against it again.

Muffled voices echoed around him, his ears still ringing, unable to focus. He couldn’t tell who was friend and who was enemy.

Oh god, were Daryl and the others okay?

His arms were grabbed and he lashed out, unsure who was trying to contain him. Suddenly, his sight began to clear and all he could see was Daryl’s face, marred with concern, blue eyes wide with worry.

“Paul? You good?”

“I-I’m okay. I think,” he croaked,. “What the fuck?”

Daryl grimaced. “Abraham.”

He gaped at the man. “He didn’t think to give a little warning?”

“According to him yelling out get out of the way quickly was all we should need when he fires a buzuka at our enemies.”

It was sad that Jesus wasn’t surprised by any of that. Seriously…his life.

“We need to get out of here,” he muttered.

“I’ll help you.” Jesus shivered as the cold began to seep into him and looked up in time to see Daryl grimace. “Hopefully Rick and the others brought some transport with them.”

“What, no piggyback?” he joked, instantly regretting it when Daryl’s eyes dimmed and they got this painful faraway look in them. “Sorry.”

Daryl peered down at him. “For what?”

“Whatever I just made you think about,” he admitted quietly. “I don’t know what nerve I touched then, but I didn’t mean to.”

“They’ll be a first,” Daryl huffed.

“My intention is to be irritating not hurtful,” he said, trying to hide how badly with teeth were chattering. Fuck it was freezing all of a sudden.

Jesus could see Daryl fighting his amusement as he shrugged out of his jacket. “Yeah. Here ya go.”

He happily took the offered clothing, thankfully Daryl’s clothing was bigger than his own and could fit over his current outfit. “Sorry, it’s just...”

“You’ve got a fever,” Daryl reminded him softly. “You’re gonna have trouble with ya temp.”

“Right.” He frowned as Daryl helped pull him to his feet. “My leg isn’t hurting to much.”

Daryl shrugged, moving to slide under his arm and support him. “Could be shock, or the fever.”

“Or you’re just good at taking care of people.”

Side eyeing him, Daryl grunted. “Let’s go.”

Sighing in resignation, Jesus nodded. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

“Do we have car?” he heard Michonne ask as the slowly made their way up the incline. “It’s not safe here anymore and I doubt we’re going to make it back to Alexandria any time soon. Where’s the nearest safe place?”

Rick grimaced. “We’ve got a car but you’re right, we won’t make it back safely at night. Daryl, Aaron...we still got a functioning place in section four?”

“No, we lost that about a week back,” Aaron answered.

Jesus focused on the conversation, remembering back to a map he saw in Rick’s place the first time he had been in Alexandria. If he recalled correctly their safe place in section four had been right near an old dirt road that lead directly to Hilltop. 

“Hilltop,” he murmured, leaning heavily into Daryl as his head began to spin.

“What?” Daryl held him more tightly.

“We’re closer to Hilltop. It’s close and easily accessible from your section four safe place.”

Raising his brows, Daryl asked, “And you know where section four is how?”

He chuckled. “That big ass map Rick. I took the time to look it over before I woke him up the first time we met.”

Daryl groaned. “Of course you did.”

For his part Rick seemed rather amused, like he did most times when Jesus pulled crap as long as no one ended up hurt. “Alright then. Hilltop it is. We’ve got the RV. We’ll head towards section four and then you can lead us from there...that is if you’re conscious.”

They all shared concerned looks which he appreciated given this crowd wasn’t known for the touchy feely shit. “I’m good. Daryl’s taking care of me.”

He patted Daryl’s chest, smiling up at the other man and grinning even wider when Daryl glared at him.

“Oh, I’m sure he is,” Rick said with a sly grin of his own.

Jesus frowned not exactly sure what Rick was implying. 

“Jesus Christ, let’s just get outta here, yeah?” Daryl grumbled, tugging Jesus along with him.

“Alright, alright. No need for the full name,” he chuckled, finding himself extremely amusing. Damn, this fever was making him a little loopy. Why was he still laughing at himself?

“Fuck. We gotta get him help now,” Daryl snapped, his annoyance turning to worry enough to sober Jesus somewhat.

Rick seemed to sense the urgency and order everyone to follow him.

He licked his lips in nervousness. “I’m not feeling too well right now. That's not a good sign is it?”

Daryl’s face did a peculiar mixture of expression, never settling on one for too long, before eventually rolling his eyes. “No, but you’ll be fine.”

Jesus nodded. “I trust you.”

Daryl hummed in acknowledgement. “Let’s go.” 

He had just enough time to tug the borrowed jacket tighter around him, then Daryl had him up in his arms and was racing his way through the trees behind Rick and the others. The entire time it took them to locate the hidden vehicle, Jesus refused to admit that he enjoyed his current position more than he probably should. He was an awesome, kickass, need nobody dude...and oh god did he just call himself dude? Maybe the fever really was fucking with him. That had to be it...right?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl manages to get Jesus to safety but their problems don't end there. Can these two boneheads face up to their feelings before more shit hits the fan?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all those who have been patiently waiting...I am so sorry it's been forever. Real life got in the way but I am back with another couple of chapters to make up for it. :) I really hope you enjoy!

Relief and elation flooded Daryl when they finally reached Hilltop, not that he let his feelings show. These people were still a bunch of fuckwits as far as he was concerned, but Jesus had steadily grown worse over the trip and needed to see Hilltop’s doc as soon as possible. 

The heritage building which most of the colonies people lived in was dark and quiet until their arrival was announced. 

“Daryl,” Jesus whispered, stirring from daze as they pulled up the front of the building. “Whe-”

“We’re here.”

“How?”

“RV, remember?” 

“RV?” 

Daryl glanced down at the man. He gnawed on the tip of his thumb when Jesus appeared confused. “Ya don’t, do ya?”

Jesus shook his head.

“Fuck,” he muttered, whistling for Rick’s attention. “He’s gettin’ worse.”

There was a lot of commotion as the doctor and a few other residents came rushing out to help them. Daryl bitterly noticed that they were quicker to offer a helping hand once they knew it was Jesus who was injured. 

These people were dicks. Their only concern came from their fear of what would happen to them if they were to lose Jesus. Afterall it didn’t take a genius to figure out the annoying man was more a leader to them then that Gregory was.

Daryl watched helplessly as Jesus was taken from him and carted off inside. Rick’s hand landed on his shoulder, firm, familiar and reassuring.

“He’ll be fine.”

Daryl nodded once but said nothing.

One of the Hilltop group approached them, spear in hand and Daryl tensed.

“Chill, man.” The stranger grinned. “If I wanted you dead, you'd already be six feet under.”

“Doubt that,” he muttered, relaxing slightly, though keeping his eyes trained on the other man just in case. “Who are you?”

“Oooh, demanding, aren’t we?”

At the man’s cocky response Daryl merely glared his annoyance. He didn’t need to look to his right to see Rick doing the same.

“Oookay, not the humorous type. Got it. But seriously, you need to chill. My name is Ryan,” the guy said, gesturing toward the building. “Come on in. I know Jesus will want you close by. We’ve got a couple of rooms set up for you right near his.”

“You sure we’re welcome?” Rick asked with an edge.

Things had been tense between Alexandria and Hilltop since their run-in with Negan.

“You’ll be safe here.”

Daryl grunted, sharing a look with Rick. Safe and welcomed were two different things.

Seeing no other option though, Daryl reluctantly followed Ryan. He shot a look behind him to see Rick following. 

“He’s just this way,” Ryan directed as he continued down a long hallway.

“Why are you being so helpful to us?” Rick asked suspiciously. His leader was more of a talker than him, and Daryl appreciated that Rick pushed for answers he knew Daryl would want.

Ryan shrugged. “We all have the same goals, and-”

Daryl rolled his eyes as he recognized the beginning of the fucking company line.

“Jesus is one of them. Without him they’d be fucked,” Daryl said, interrupting whatever bullshit line Ryan was about to give them.

It came down to two basic facts. They needed Jesus, and Jesus had for some unexplainable reason chosen to side with Alexandria when everything had all gone to shit after Negan.

“That’s true,” Ryan said simply. “I don’t deny that. Jesus wants to be involved with you, so we have to accept that.”

Daryl’s lips thinned and his brows tugged down into a frown at the way Ryan eyed him as he said _‘Jesus wants to be involved with you’_. Ryan implied more with his words and with his nerves already slightly frayed with worry, Daryl felt the urge to lunge over and take a swing at the fucker.

The only thing that stopped him was Rick’s heavy hand on his shoulder again.

Daryl took in the house as they made their way through, trying to work out where they would have taken Jesus. Ryan had said they would be close by but Daryl wanted to see the man for himself. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but inside he was almost frantic with the need to check in on him. 

“How close will we be to him? Can we see him now?” Rick suddenly asked, glancing over and meeting Daryl’s gaze with a small nod of reassurance, letting Daryl know he had read the tension in him and had his back.

“Very close.” A peculiar look passed over Ryan’s features. There one minute and gone the next. “You two will have the spare rooms attached to Jesus’ living quarters. He insisted on it before his started passing out.”

Ryan stopped unexpectedly and opened the doors to his right, indicating for them to follow him as he revealed the small living area.

Daryl’s mouth dropped open as he entered, impressed with the size and state of the area. A three-seater lounge sat in the middle of the room facing a small coffee table and an entertainment setup. Off to the right was a kitchenette with black marble benches, holding everything but an actual oven. Next to it was a cute little alcove with a table and two chairs set up. To the left were four doors which he presumed to be the bedrooms and bathroom.

“These will be your rooms while you stay. There is this seating area and two more bedrooms off of them besides Jesus’ own room.” Ryan eyed the way Daryl studied the doors in front of them speculatively before smiling and pointing to the one on the right. “Jesus is in there. There is spare clothing in various sizes for you if you wish to change and bathe. I’ll see you in the morning, breakfast is at eight.”

Ryan left them standing there.

“I, ah...,” Daryl fidgeted.

Rick cleared his throat, failing to hide his grin. “You take the first shower. Get cleaned up, then check on Jesus.”

Daryl ignored his friend’s amusement and shuffled toward one of the rooms. He wanted to get washed, dressed and to Jesus as soon as possible.

The honesty in that thought had him stumbling into the small bathroom and he sighed. Fuck. He had it bad. Like stepping off a cliff, it seemed barely admitting to himself how he felt, and having others acknowledge the fact too, had sent him on a spiral downwards. He was free falling into those feelings he thought he had kept so well hidden and Daryl had no idea what was waiting for him at the bottom.

“Oh, fuck me. I’m screwed.”

* * * *

Jesus woke up sore and confused, leaving him feeling restless. By the way the light was slowly appearing from outside, he guessed he had been out for a few hours. His mind kept replaying the events of the night before. Seeing Christian again, hearing his taunts, had cut deep.

Every fear of abandonment and betrayal played like a feature with Daryl as a witness. 

He shifted on the bed, blankets pooling at his waist as he sat up with a groan, disappointment filling him as he realized the room was empty except for him. He didn’t know why, but Jesus had hoped to see Daryl, waiting for him to wake up, checking on him...something.

_When will I stop expecting more than I deserve?_

Heart dropping to his stomach, Jesus forced himself up and out of the bed, padding across the carpeted floor. Stepping out of his room and finding the seating area clear, he quickly eyed the other two bedrooms and saw they were closed. He hoped Ryan had followed his final orders and brought Daryl and Rick there. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his people, but given how tense things were between both Hilltop and Alexandria, he would prefer to have the men he now saw as friends close by.

Sighing, Jesus headed for the bathroom, not stopping until he reached the shower and had hot water running from the tap. The chill of the black and white tiles against his warm skin caused him to shiver as the glass surrounding the large two-person shower began to steam up. This place had always felt far too extravagant for a post-apocalyptic world, but Jesus would be forever grateful for their use of plumbing. 

Once he finished stripping off and slid under the spray, he leant against the wall and groaned, dropping his face into his hands. He knew he had to face facts. Daryl didn’t want him. The man had made his intentions more than clear. Even if there had been some stretch, some miracle that his feelings could have been returned, well, the humiliation and bombshell Christian had delivered would have been enough to snuff that out, and Jesus had to come to terms with it as soon as possible. There were greater things at risk than his love life.

Or lack, thereof.

Jesus let the water and heat soak into his bones, exhaustion pulling him down both mentally and physically. Finding the energy, Jesus quickly scrubbed himself down, rinsing the suds. The effects of the poison had managed to work their way out of his body with Daryl’s help and whatever the doctor had done once he passed out. Given that he had woken up alone, Jesus could assume that he was out of the woods and in the clear medically wise. Either way, he was glad to no longer be a vulnerability. He could fight with the best of them now.

At least that was something.

“We need to talk.”

Jesus let out an unmanly shriek as the sudden voice burst through his bubble. “Do you mind? I’m kind of naked here!”

He cupped himself and turned his body slightly, not that it did much good. Honestly, it just gave Daryl a better view of his ass, which made the older man grin.

Daryl’s eyes roamed his body, a flush trailing in their wake down Jesus’ form. “I can see that.”

Well, that was...bold. Who knew Daryl had it in him.

“Get out.” He willed his cock to behave itself, mentally threatening it in a range of colorful and unique ways.

“Am I interrupin’, or somethin’?” Daryl’s head tilted down to indicate Jesus’ growing erection. Jesus’ skin melted at that deep, husky voice distantly thinking the man could have made millions if he had tried his hand as a phone sex operator before the world went to shit.

Jesus flushed. “No. No, you’re not interrupting anything.” At Daryl’s disbelieving stare, he added, “The thing has a warped sense of self-preservation. The only thing you are interrupting is me...having a shower...in private...”

Daryl quirked a brow. “Uh-huh. We still need to talk.”

He blinked at Daryl. “What, now? Are you serious?” When Daryl just continued to stare, he swiped a hand, brushing the water out of his face. “Can we have this conversation later? You know, when I’m done?”

“Fine,” Daryl bit out, sounding frustrated. “Just hurry up.”

Daryl marched out of the room, leaving a gaping Jesus behind him.

“Why the rush? Got a hot date or something?” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Finishing up, he flicked the taps off and stepped out of the shower, picking a towel up and drying himself quickly. His mind played over Daryl’s words, his implacable expression was unnerving. Jesus worried his bottom lip as he considered exactly what the older man wanted to talk about. 

A heavy feeling settled deep inside of him when he considered Daryl might want to talk about Christian and what had been said. God, how so didn’t want to go there, especially with Daryl fucking Dixon. 

Jesus suddenly wanted to do nothing less than join Daryl in the lounge room. He wasn’t sure he could handle the outright rejection from the other man if he brought up the comments Christain made about Jesus’ obvious feelings for Daryl, or worse, any look of pity Daryl might send his way.

He fought back the urge to run, to make some excuse about needing to attend to other things. Procrastinating never solved anything. And Jesus had been a lot of things over the years, but coward sure as shit wasn’t one of them. No. He would face this like he’d had to with everything else in his life—a straight spine, determination, and a fake air of confidence.

Hurrying back into the bedroom, he slipped the track pants back on. A quick glance at the clock said it was only six in the morning, still another two hours before breakfast.

He composed himself just inside the door, the mask he had perfected years ago slipping into place as easily as a second skin.

He coud do this. He could totally do this.

Oh fuck...he really didn't want to do this.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Daryl and Jesus to finally have THE TALK. Given how much Daryl hates talking, and just how much we all suspect Jesus may like the sound of his own voice, this will either been extremely productive...or disastrous...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owed a lot of people more than just the chapter I put up yesterday, so here is another plus one more on they way tonight.

Out in the mini lounge and dining area, Jesus found Daryl sitting rather stoically on the three-seater. Shoring up what little courage he felt he had left, Jesus took the necessary steps until he was able to sit down on the opposite end of the lounge to Daryl.

Daryl remained silent for a while longer, the tension ratcheting up in the absence of communication.

Eventually, Jesus cracked, unable to take it any longer. “You said we had to talk. So talk.”

Daryl winced at the harshness of his words, and he nearly took them back. He didn’t however. He wanted this done sooner rather than later.

“’m sorry,” Daryl finally said mumbling the words out around the thumb tip he now chewed on.

Words caught in his throat. Jesus hadn’t expected to hear those words from Daryl of all people, and honestly couldn't even think as to what they implied to. What did Daryl have to be sorry for?

Obviously sensing his confusion, Daryl groaned. Closing the distance between them, Daryl took Jesus’ hand in his own after a few awkward and aborted attempts. It was as if Daryl couldn’t make up his mind. And god help him, Jesus found it somewhat endearing. 

_Oh fuck me, endearing...seriously?_

“Crap. I’m screwin’ this up again, ain’t I?”

Jesus shrugged helplessly, staring down at the hand that had been gently placed on top of his own. “That depends on what _this_ is. I’m a little unsure where this is all going.”

“I've been an asshole lately,” Daryl said with a grimace as Jesus snorted. “More ‘an usual, that is. I've been takin’ shit out on ya. Blaming ya for stuff you got no control over. Had no control over. It's not fair and 'm sorry.”

Daryl’s words hit him hard as they sunk in. The man had been aiming his anger towards Jesus for all the mess that he and his friends had landed in. Fuck...that hurt more than he thought it would.

“You blame me for everything that has happened to your people?” Jesus asked, one eyebrow raised as he stared at the man. His voice was flat, cold. He would use every barrier he knew to keep himself from falling apart. To stay sane. “Because last time I check it was you and yours that were certain you could take on Negan. So cocky and sure of yourselves. We didn't ask you to take on the Saviors. I didn't do that. You offered. You bargained for your bloody cows. And so what, it backfires and that's on me? How the hell is that even remotely fair?”

“Ain’t fair. That's what 'm sayin’. Was wrong of me,” Daryl said softly, his gaze hard and intense like he was trying to put everything he felt behind those few words. Like just speaking was difficult for him. And maybe it was. Daryl had never seemed like the most talkative type before the line-up with Negan. Since then, Daryl had been more closed off from everyone. The tension that usually simmered just under the surface seemed to boil over at every turn now. “If I hadn't been so fucking worried about hidin’ me damn feelin’s…”

Jesus jerked in surprise. _Wait, what?_

He narrowed his eyes on Daryl, waiting for him to finish what he was saying. However, when nothing came, he just felt more confused. Was Daryl saying he had feelings for him?

Jesus could feel his carefully constructed walls crumbling, his blank, careless expression cracking as he sat there, stunned.

“Your fee—”

“Feelin’s. Yeah. Christ almighty. You really gonna keep makin’ me say that,” Daryl said, cutting him off. “I don't do this...talkin’ and feelin’s and shit, so just listen this once instead of interrupin’ like the goddamn know it all you think ya are, yeah?”

Jesus nodded, his lips clamping shut.

“There are things. That I feel, when it comes to you,” Daryl said slowly, almost as if he were fighting every word that slipped out. Jesus watched him shift uncomfortably under his gaze. “I just...I dunno...it was easier and all, to blame ya. Gave me a good excuse, ya know? Not to admit nothin’. My whole life wasn’t worth shit before all hell broke loose. Not worth much after either. But attachments, Nah, didn’t do that. Then I met Rick and it all changed. Still didn’t do that other stuff, though, ya know?”

Shaking his head, he said, “Ahhh, are we talking about feelings still, or sex?”

Daryl glared at him. “Wasn’t talkin’ about no sex.”

Holding his hands up in surrender, Jesus bit down hard on his lip to stop himself from grinning at the indignation written across Daryl’s face. “Sorry, my bad. Right...feelings. You have them. For me?”

Snorting, Daryl rolled his eyes, “Ain’t that what I been sayin’?”

“Well I don’t know, you’re not exactly the clearest person in the world when it comes to communicating, so please forgive me for not being able to keep up. I’m still wondering if you blame me or not, feelings aside. They way I see it, if you want to pin all this crap on me then it really doesn’t matter what other feelings are involved. Resentment, anger and hatred usually tends to trump just about everything else.”

A tension filled silence settled between them, Jesus unsure if he or Daryl were more surprised at his sudden outburst.

“I don’t hate you,” Daryl said slow and softly as though he were dealing with a wounded animal. “Didn’t always trust ya, but I never hated ya. Kinda the opposite. Which just pissed me off more.”

Frowning, Jesus pulled himself together, absently annoyed at himself for getting emotional in the first place. Fuck, he needed to get a grip. “So you like me?”

Daryl nodded.

With a weight lifting off of him at Daryl’s strange and tangled admission, he couldn’t help himself as he grinned. “Do you _like_ like me? Or just like me?”

Eyes narrowing into tiny displeased slits, Daryl grunted.

Guess he was done talking then.

“I never thank you,” Jesus said quietly, wanting to fill the void of silence that had settled between them once again. It was a theme between them. Daryl hated talking, and Jesus loved talking. He wasn’t sure if that made them perfect for one another of just plain annoying. “You went above and beyond after we were attacked. Hell, I didn’t even know I had been injured at first, let alone poisoned. Things could have ended badly. I was lucky you were there.”

Daryl shrugged. “You woulda done the same.”

“True. You know, you fight dirty,” Jesus whispered with a small smile. “I was watching you when you went after...well, when you went on the defensive, and I realized in the moment that there wasn’t anything you weren’t prepared to do, to get us out of there alive.”

“Nope. Wasn’t dirty, I just don’t hold back none,” Daryl corrected, steel behind his tone. “Holdin’ back will only get ya killed or worse…others.”

The single crack in Daryl’s voice was enough to let Jesus know Daryl knew exactly what he was talking about. His mind flashed to a dismembered corpse of Eugene and the badly injured Glenn. Those images haunted him, so he couldn’t imagine what they did to Daryl. Jesus was beginning to realize that Daryl may not wear his heart on his sleeve, but he felt deeply.

“I know it can be har—”

“You have no idea what ya talkin’ about, Paul.” Daryl’s eyes pinned him with a harsh glare. “So don’t.”

That response infuriated him. How dare Daryl imply he didn’t understand, that Jesus couldn’t possibly comprehend that amount of guilt? “I get it, okay?”

“Get what?” the other man snarled.

“What you’re feeling. You replay it, over and over again, wondering…”

Daryl’s jaw tightened. “Wonderin’?”

“Could you have done it differently? What if you had fought just a little harder?” Jesus swallowed hard. Every fear and insecurity he owned about his time before he arrived at Hilltop—the cruelty he had been forced to watch inflicted on his sister, the death of his parents—came flooding back. The group he had been with had relished their ability to not only control a person but to witness the damage both mentally and physically that their favored form of torture caused. He knew that better than anyone. “You blame yourself because just maybe, had you been that little bit stronger…the person or people you care about would never have been hurt. And every time you look at yourself in the mirror, you question whether or not you deserve anything good in your life. You ask why the hell you deserved to live and they didn’t.”

The only sound between them for a long time was the low sounds of their ragged breaths.

“I watched as my sister was slowly broken until nothing of the bright, vibrant girl I knew was left. My father fought, and my mother screamed but it didn’t do any good. I was paralyzed with fear. I wasn’t the fighter I am today. I tried, but I wasn’t any match. If it weren’t for Christian, which just sickens me now that I know who he became, I would have died right along with the rest of my family.” Jesus calmed himself before continuing. “So you see, you don’t get the monopoly on screwed up, Daryl. You aren’t the only person with regrets and guilt so bad you feel like it’s drowning you every day. What you do have is a chance to move on…to make up for it.”

Daryl arched a brow. “Like you have?”

“Like I am.” He shook his head, eyes slipping to the hand that still, even now, held his. “That’s why I fight so damn hard now. It’s why I never try to claim recognition for anything. I know you see it...they way I can take control and decision away from Gregory but don’t. I know you wonder why. Well, now you know. It’s not my place. It’s not my right.”

He could see the moment understanding dawned on the other man. “Never had nobody get me like that. Sides Rick, but half the time he’s got too much of his own shit to handle anythin’ else.”

“So now you know…I don’t have my shit together. I’m filled with all types of guilt, and most of the time I wonder if I’ll ever be able to call myself a good man.” A sad laugh escaped when Daryl narrowed his gaze on him, as though he were peeling back all of the layers Jesus had so carefully constructed and leaving him bare. Jesus suddenly felt like everything he could have had was slipping through his fingers. “Maybe you and the rest of Alexandria would have been better off if you and Rick never met me. Maybe I should have just left that truck alone.”

“I’m glad ya didn’t,” Daryl said so quietly he almost didn’t hear him. “Leave it alone, I mean. Glad I met ya. Do you regret Alexandria and Hilltop deciding to work together?”

He knew there was more to Daryl’s question than merely asking if Jesus regretted the alliance they had. He wanted to know if Jesus regretted ever meeting him.

Feeling a bout of confidence that he hadn’t in a long time, Jesus edged up onto his knees, sneaking a hand up and around the back of Daryl’s head to cup the other man’s neck. Tugging, he closed the distance until there was barely a hair’s breadth. “If there is one thing I am too selfish to regret, Daryl Dixon...it’s getting to have you in my life, even for a small amount of time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smexy times ahead...consider yourself warned...lol I will attempt to keep it to one chapter without adding anything vital for those who wish to skip the graphic stuff and thangs. And by that I mean smut. So much smut.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexy time...you have been warned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who would prefer not to read graphic sex, you can skip this entire chapter. Nothing vital to the storyline will happen here.

Pulling away from the kiss, Daryl shot up from the lounge with a growl. He ignored the hurt expression that flitted across Jesus’ face, favoring to wrap a hand around the younger man’s bicep and yank him up.

Jesus let out a startled sound when Daryl all but dragged the man behind him into the room Jesus had slept in. When he had checked in on Jesus earlier he had seen the man lying there, the sheet pooling at his waist and looking so damn vulnerable. Daryl had had to fight against every urge he had to take the man then and there. He’d never had such a strong reaction to anyone before.

Daryl knew they had needed to discuss things first. He couldn’t simply jump the barely conscious man without even explaining himself. He’d been a rank asshole to Jesus lately. Even if there had been a glimmer of a chance that Jesus had wanted him as well, Daryl knew he had to handle things right. But now he was done. No more talking, no more questions. He wanted Jesus. Needed Jesus like he needed air.

Jesus tumbled to the bed with a yelp, and Daryl fell on top of him. Pinning the younger man to the mattress, he groaned as their erections rubbed together. The need to feel friction consumed him as he began to move against Jesus. Beneath him, Jesus squirmed, panting heavily in his ear.

“Fuck. Want ya,” Daryl muttered, continuing to thrust.

Many thought Daryl asexual at best, a virgin at worst, but the truth was he was just plain picky. If he was going to open himself up to someone, they had damn well be worth it. And in return, Daryl made every second count. So where he may completely fail at most human interaction, as far as sex went, well...he wasn’t one to big note himself but...oh who the fuck was he kidding. _Yes he was._

Sex was his domain. He may not have had many, but every lover he had ever had would say the same thing. He was the best they ever had. And right now, he was damn sure going to make sure Jesus never wanted, never craved anyone else but him again. Because Daryl was an all or nothing man and if he was going to have this, he was never going to give him up.

“Yes,” Jesus hissed, scoring his nails into Daryl’s flesh.

He shivered as they trailed down his back, his skin pebbling in excitement. Daryl nipped and sucked his way down Jesus’ jawline and to his neck, leaving marks as his hand reaching out blindly to find the drawer. Lube. They needed lube. He growled in frustration when he came up empty. Fuck. Did Jesus even have any in here?

“Here. It’s here.” Jesus easily pulled the drawer open and retrieved an unused tube, handing it to him quickly. “Hurry.”

“Bossy.” He nipped Jesus’ lower lip. “I’m gonna to take my time with ya, and ya gonna love it.”

Jesus moaned. “Oh god.”

Chuckling, Daryl stripped the two of them bare, slipping Jesus’ clothing off of him. Beneath him, Jesus strained against him, begging as Daryl leaned forward and latched onto one of Jesus’ beaded nipples.

“Ah, yesss,” Jesus hissed.

Biting down hard, Daryl chuckled at the startled sound Jesus made. Enjoying the sounds he elicited from the man, Daryl worried at the two pink discs, swapping back and forth before making his way down Jesus’ body. Parting Jesus’ thighs, Daryl slowly licked a path up Jesus’ now-weeping cock.

“Fuck. You’re, like, some sort of deceptive sex god, aren’t you? Please. Just, please. Oh, fuck.” Jesus’ breathy plea caused him to shudder with unrelenting lust.

This is what he loved about sex with the right lover, having them wild and spread open for him. Daryl trailed his tongue lower, flicking it over his sac.

“Please,” Jesus whined.

“God, ya sound so good beggin’ and all that,” he rasped.

“I’ll beg all you want. Just fuck me, now.”

Not done playing yet, Daryl swiped his tongue across Jesus’ puckered entrance before pulling back, stiffening his tongue and thrusting in.

“Oh, oh yeah. God, I love that. Just…oh…yeah,” Jesus babbled. Wetting his fingers with the lube, Daryl pulled back from his ministrations and plunged two fingers in. “Ahhh…yes…oh, god… That’s it…sooo good!”

Adding another finger, he took the entire length of Jesus’ cock down, until the tip nudged the back of his throat. Jesus mewled as his hands clutched at the sheets, at Daryl’s hair. Jesus was completely at his mercy. Lifting so that only the crown remained in his mouth, he sucked the head as he slid in a fourth finger. Feeling Jesus’ balls draw up, he moaned at the taste of the other man as Jesus lost himself to the pleasure and came.

Daryl released Jesus’ spent cock, rolling the younger man over onto his knees. Reaching blindly for the lube that had been dropped to the bed, Daryl made quick work of slicking himself up.

“Christ. Gonna to fuck ya so hard,” he snarled, right before he slid his cock deep inside the temptation in front of him.

Jesus hissed and then shouted as he spread his legs wider, pushing his ass back onto Daryl’s cock.

Daryl gripped Jesus’ hips, pumping in and out, unable to slow down. Jesus seemed to be as lost as he was, meeting him with every thrust.

A grunt that sounded more pained than pleasurable shocked Daryl out of his lusty hazy. Worried he was causing the younger man pain, he fought for control again. When Daryl finally claimed some of his self-control back, he watched his cock slip in and out of Jesus’ ass. It took every scrap of control Daryl possessed not to let loose, but he wouldn’t hurt him.

“So good. Ya feel so good. Can’t get ‘nough. Do ya like how it feels, Paul? This what ya want?”

Jesus threw a wide-eyed look over his shoulder as he moaned, rocking back onto Daryl’s cock harder and faster.

 _Hmmm, someone likes dirty talk._ Daryl grinned. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” Jesus choked out. “God, yes. I love it.”

Jesus moaned and gasped, groaned and shook. Daryl relished every sound that slipped out. Every time Daryl slowly thrust into him, Jesus keened. Daryl kept a deliberate, measured pace that had them both sweating and moving in perfect synchrony. He couldn’t stop himself from biting Jesus’ neck and throat, wanting to leave marks for everyone to see.

Fuck, he had never felt so damn possessive.

“Wait,” Jesus suddenly whispered making Daryl freeze. He couldn’t be regretting his decision. _No_ … “Let me...I need to...see you. Please.”

Relief flowed over Daryl and the urgency he heard in Jesus’ tone had him pulling out quickly and giving the younger man enough room to turn over. Once settled, Jesus reached his hand up to brush Daryl’s long hair out of his face with a tiny, genuine smile and look of wonder in his eyes. “Beautiful.”

He raised his brows in surprise, not accustomed to having that word used to describe him.

Two long, muscular legs wrapped around his hips, urging him back into position as Jesus looked at him mischievously, a grin lighting up his face.

“What are you waiting for? A written invitation,” Jesus teased, and Daryl took great pleasure in watching that smug grin fall off his face when he drove back in. He knew the exact moment he hit Jesus’ sweet spot as the man cried out in pleasure, his eyes rolling back in his head.

Leaning down he kissed Jesus’ mouth where it had fallen open and was rewarded with a hand tugging at his hair, running through the long, messy strands. Pressure built at the bottom of his spine and he wedged his hand between their bodies to wrap his fingers around Jesus’ dick. He loved the weight of it in his palm as he jerked it in time with his thrusts, pulling Jesus to the edge with him.

“Daryl... I’m gonna...please, don’t stop...”

He heard Jesus cry out as his release splashed between them, coating their skin. 

“Yes,” he hissed, before he bit into Jesus’ shoulder, not hard enough to break the skin but enough to leave a mark. He came hard, lights flashing behind his closed lids. They went on and on, as Daryl ground his cock into Jesus’ ass until he finally eased back enough for him to slip out.

Daryl gently pulled back to stared down at the man, unable to suppress the grin that rose at the sated look on Jesus’ face. Jesus, his cheeks flushed, his lids heavy and a smile on his lips. 

“Fucking hell...that was...fucking hell,” Jesus panted out the words.

Daryl fell to the side, curling an arm around Jesus’ waist and tugging the younger man closer. 

“You can say that again,” he mumbled into Jesus’ shoulder, already half asleep. They had a couple of hours before breakfast still, so hopefully one of them would wake by then.

Just as he drifted off, he heard Jesus whisper, “Fucking hell.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finally giving into their feelings, a series of misunderstandings leads Jesus to wonder if maybe sleeping together wasn't as serious for Daryl as it was for him. Did Daryl really mean he wanted more from Jesus than just sex, or did Jesus read to much into things and get his hopes up for nothing?
> 
> *This would be where the tags "idiots in love" and "manpain" comes in....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No sex in this chapter, but I can't promise about the next one. It looks like dining room sex might actually be a thing.

A nudge to his shoulder had Jesus’ head shooting up as he blearily took in the room. His eyes took a moment to adjust, finally narrowing on the snickering form of Ryan.

“Wha—”

“Shhh,” Ryan hissed. “Don’t wake up lover boy. The man looks like he’d eat me for disturbing his sleep. ”

Jesus frowned, confused for a moment as he shifted, trying to get a better look at his surroundings, but a strong arm around his waist pinned him to the mattress. A soft sheet draped over him and Jesus realized he wore nothing. Heat along his back, and a firm, naked erection pressing into him had the confusion clearing and the memories of a few hours ago flooding back to him.

_Oh. Oh damn._

He swiveled his head to glance at Daryl, who was still asleep, light snores coming from him. The sheet draped to just below Daryl’s hip, and his body seemed huge against the white linens.

Jesus looked back at Ryan, blushing furiously. “Ah…”

“Seriously man,” Ryan held his hands up to silence him. “I really don’t need a blow by blow. Just didn’t want you to miss breakfast. It’s almost nine already, and cook said something about packing up soon. So I’m going to head back down, eat some more, and maybe I’ll see you to down there, huh?”

Ryan didn’t give him a chance to respond, rushing out of the room like the hounds of hell were on his tail.

Strange guy, that one. Ever since he had come to Hilltop, he had always seemed so eager to please people, though Jesus had to admit, sneaking into his rooms to wake him up for breakfast was certainly a new one.

“He gone?”

Jesus startled at Daryl’s murmur, twisting his head to see the other man with one eye slightly open and a smirk on his face.

“You were awake? That whole time?” he asked, jabbing Daryl in the ribs when the older man chuckled. “Why didn’t you say anything? You could have helped me avoid a seriously embarrassing situation, dude.”

“Don’t call me ‘dude’,” Daryl said absently and with absolutely no heat.

Jesus couldn’t help but stare as Daryl stretched his toned, muscular arms up above his head, body on display. Jesus wanted to lean in and lick every inch of the delectable sight.

“Why…so that _I_ could be in an embarrassin’ situation? Nah thanks. I think ya handled it just fine.”

“I didn’t handle anything,” Jesus said with a roll of his eyes. His stomach chose that moment to grumble. “And I’m starving. You coming?”

Daryl stifled a yawn. “Nah, not too hungry right now. You go on ahead, I’m gonna grab a shower.”

Jesus watched as Daryl dragged himself from the bed and made his way to the bathroom without a backward glance. A heavy feeling settled in his gut. A nasty voice started in his head, one whispering to him that Daryl hadn’t invited him to join him. That he had called their situation _embarrassing_.

Daryl had mentioned feelings but Jesus suddenly realized the other man hadn’t actually admitted what those feelings were. Jesus had just assumed…

He suddenly felt cold and extremely vulnerable. Shoving from the bed, he grimaced at the sensation of dried cum sticking to him. Jesus swallowed down the bile that began to rise as he hastily picked a new pair of pants from the drawer, going so far as to choose a t-shirt, socks, and loose-fitting jumper. He felt an inexplicable need for as many layers as he could.

The desire to clean himself off and attempt to remove any trace of Daryl filled him. Refusing to enter the bathroom with Daryl, Jesus grabbed the clothes and rushed to the empty set of rooms that sat across the hallway. Not wanting to waste time however, he searched for a cloth, and using the hottest water, he scrubbed himself clean as thoroughly as possible.

Dressed moments later, Jesus didn’t even bother checking to see if Daryl had finished, racing down the stairs and working his way to the dining area.

There was an inordinate amount of noise coming from the area and Jesus cringed. He really hadn’t wanted an audience. The room was full, so many people gathered around the large, long tables, while a few of them moved in and out a set of bay doors that lead to the kitchen. Michonne, Abraham, Sasha and Aaron sat at the one closest to him. Rick was notably absent.

“Jesus!” Aaron shouted from his spot at the table.

Multiple sets of eyes turned to him, drawing the tension in his body tighter, but the warm, welcoming smiles from his new friends helped ease some of the tension that he felt. Edging his way to them, Jesus claimed the empty seat next to Aaron.

“So, is there any food left, or did you eat us out of house and home?” he joked, noticing the pile of food on both Abraham and Aaron’s plates. Jesus scrunched up his nose when Aaron laughed with a mouth full of food. “God, you’re disgusting.”

“I assure you, there is plenty of food still to be had,” said Mariah, their cook as she stepped into the room. She had dark hair graying slightly at the edges and crow’s-feet lining her kind-looking eyes gave off a motherly feel. “So you just get comfortable and I’ll bring you out a plate of the works, just as you like it, Pauly.” 

Jesus nodded, even as he winced at the nickname Mariah kept using much to his dismay, watching the woman exit the room.

“Pauly?” Abraham whispered. “And I thought Jesus was bad.”

“Never pictured you as a Pauly,” Aaron chuckled. 

Jesus glared. “Yeah, and let’s not start.”

“Oh please, let’s...” Rick teased as he entered the room, taking a spot next to Michonne. When his gaze gravitated toward Jesus, Rick frowned a little. “Everything okay?”

“Of course he’s okay,” Ryan chortled as he stepped into the room just then, slapping Jesus on the back with an enthusiastic pat. “Not every day you land the guy you’ve been drooling over for weeks.”

Jesus paled at Ryan’s words, the room going eerily silent when Jesus remained quiet. Oh god. What if Daryl hadn’t wanted anyone to know about them? What if they all assumed he and Daryl were a thing now? He wasn’t even sure what he and Daryl were. Actually, he was pretty sure given the way the other man had all but shrugged him off this morning, and that just made him feel sicker.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Jesus,” Ethan whispered. “It wasn’t a secret, was it? He isn’t just using you, right? I mean, you’ve been pretty hung on him since you met, and—”

Shaking his head, Jesus refused to open his eyes, biting down hard on his lip. “Drop it, Ryan.”

“Somethin’ smells go—” Daryl’s words were cut off as he walked into the room, no doubt sensing the tension and perhaps Jesus embarrassment and shame. “What’s goin’ on?”

Rick was the first to speak, clearing his throat in the awkward silence. “Maybe we should all give them a moment.”

The scraping of chairs against wooden floor was the only indication anyone moved until an almost animal like snarl ripped through the air and shouts bounced off of the walls.

“Ryan. No!” Rick shouted, causing Jesus to look up just in time to see Ryan lunging at Daryl with a knife in hand. He landed on Daryl, slicing the weapon into Daryl’s flesh. Daryl hissed and bucked Ryan off of him, slamming a fist into the side of Ryan’s head, but that didn’t stop Ryan who was already back on his feet and angling himself to make another strike.

“Ryan. Stop.” His voice was low, quiet, and slightly pained, but it was enough to make Ryan freeze. The move gave Rick and Abraham the opening they had been looking for as they stepped up behind Ryan and disarmed him, twisting his hands behind his back. 

Ryan turned to him, cocking his head as if to ask why. Standing on wobbly legs, Jesus walked over to Ryan but kept out of reach, more than a little shaken and terrified of the younger man’s response. “You can’t hurt him.”

Ryan’s fierce eyes glared at Daryl. “Why not?”

“Because it’s wrong. That’s not how we do things here, you know that.” Jesus felt guilty that Ryan would now have to be punished for attacking one of their allies in his misguided attempt to...to...defend Jesus’ honor or something. “And because it’s between me and Daryl. If he doesn’t want, if he was only interested in sex, then that’s his decision, but you can’t go attacking him f—”

“What?” Daryl interrupted him. “What the hell do ya mean, if I don’t want ya?”

“Probably had something to do with you jumping out of bed as soon as you could and rushing into the shower alone,” Ryan snapped.

Jesus swallowed hard, paling at Ryan’s comment. “How did you know that?”

“I...I was there, remember?” Ryan stuttered, eyes widening as he realized what he had revealed. “I came to tell you about breakfast.”

“Then ya left. So how could ya now anythin’ about that?” Daryl pressed, lip curled back in anger. “Were ya watchin’ or somethin’, like a fuckin’ peepin’ tom?”

“I was looking out for Jesus. Trying to protect him from you!” Ryan spat at Daryl.

Daryl who stood with his arm wrapped in a bit of ripped material he got from who knew where. Shit, Daryl had been hurt bad enough he was bleeding.

“Enough!” Jesus shouted. Tired, ashamed, embarrassed and confused, he just wanted it all to stop.

“No, not enough. I want ta know what the fuck he thinks he’s doin’ stalking my guy” Daryl demanded. 

Jesus blinked in surprise at Daryl’s words. _His guy?_ Did Daryl actually want him for more than sex?

Daryl’s amber gaze softened and he realized he had said that out aloud. “Paul? That what ya thought this mornin’ was?”

“Maybe?” Heat rose in his cheeks. “Earlier, you…”

Understanding dawned on Daryl’s features and his face fell. “Oh god. No. That wasn’t… I...fuck. Thought I made it clear.”

“Okay, this time, we really need to let them have their privacy,” Rick insisted, and Jesus wanted to kiss him for ushering the others, including a still screaming Ryan, out of the room. 

“Paul?”

His attention drew back to Daryl, who wore an expression Jesus couldn’t identify. “Yes?”

“I want ya in all the ways, not just that...”

So simple, and yet those ten little words had his heart soaring. Fuck, he had turned into an absolute sap. 

“Are you sure?”

_Yup. Seriously losing street cred here._

Daryl chuckled, his face easing into a small grin. “Yes. I’m very sure. Just didn’t think, ya know? Was messy after what we did, but ya seemed more hungry than worried about it. So I let ya go get fed and cleaned up. Always meant to join ya. Forgive me?”

Sincerity shone in Daryl’s eyes, and Jesus was helpless to do anything but nod.

As if taking that as a sign, Daryl moved closer, closing the gap between them and cupping Jesus’ cheek. The table dug into his back, but all his attention was focused on Daryl.

“Never doubt that I want ya. I think that after everythin’ we’ve both been through, we could stand to take it a little slower, huh?”

“How slow are we talking?” he asked, taking the initiative and leaning in to press his lips against Daryl’s. Pulling back, he grinned up at the older man. “Because there is a wide gap between taking it slow and getting married.”

Daryl growled, eyes a molten amber as they locked onto him. “I think I can be persuaded to pick up the pace just a bit.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut again. I couldn't help myself. I feel like Daryl has gone far too long without. Sorry, not sorry.

Slow was the last thing Jesus wanted.

Jesus forgot how to breathe when Daryl’s eyes hooded and he slipped his thumb into Jesus’ mouth. His tongue whirled around the pad, as his lips closed around the digit. He began to suck it with enthusiasm, watching Daryl’s eyes turn liquid with heat before they closed and his lips parted.

Daryl groaned. “Damn. This is much better than slow.”

“Hell yes.”

Jesus stood on his tiptoes, wrapping his arms around Daryl’s neck as he sucked Daryl’s tongue down his throat. Daryl inserted a leg between his, and Jesus ground his balls into it, needing the pressure relieved. His head fell back as Daryl sucked his way down his neck.

“Daryl. Oh god. W–we shouldn’t do t–this here,” he protested half-heartedly. Honestly, if Daryl wanted to take him there in the dining room of this place, he was all for that. 

A surge of possessiveness shot through him as he rutted against the other man more frantically, desperate for anything and everything Daryl was willing to give him.

Tilting his neck to the side, he silently begged. Blunt teeth bit down hard, and he thought, _hello, kink I never knew I had._

Daryl’s hands slid up Jesus’ back as he pulled him closer, heat racing up his spine as he rode Daryl’s leg harder. He was so close.

“We really should. I want you anywhere, anytime,” Daryl crooned, sending shivered up his spine. 

“So damn insatiable, aren’t you.” Jesus chuckled. “I’m going to be so sore after this. You’ll have to give me some sort of a break.”

“I have year’s worth of sex to make up for. Been so long. Think it’s gonna take a while before I’m ready for a break.”

Jesus laughed, ready to call Daryl out because neither of them were teenagers anymore, when Daryl reached down and squeezed his cock through the thin material he wore. Jesus cried out, shooting into his pants. His orgasm hit him out of nowhere, leaving him dazed. Daryl continued sucking on his neck, rubbing his sensitive skin as Jesus floated back down.

_Holy shit!_

Daryl’s bright blue eyes were staring deep into his. Jesus stretched up and kissed him, Daryl’s leg still tucked between his. When Daryl’s hand pushed past the waistband and slid his finger down the crease of Jesus’ ass, he moaned in need.

“God, yes.” Jesus pushed back.

The finger slid into him as Daryl watched him with a set jaw, looking as though he was determined to make him come again. Jesus rode that finger, another sliding in beside it. Daryl placed his free hand on Jesus’s back, stopping him from falling back.

“Daryl,” he panted. “Oh god. Daryl.”

“Yeah. That’s it. So ready, so open for me, ain’t ya?” Daryl murmured against his lips.

“Yes,” he hissed.

Daryl pushed his fingers deeper, making Jesus slide up his thigh. Oh, fuck, he was going to come again just from the pure, raw determination he saw in those eyes, the way that jaw clenched and those lips thinned out.

Daryl twisted his fingers, hitting Jesus’ prostate, and he shouted. Daryl laid feather-light kisses down his neck, rubbing his back to soothe him.

“Do ya want more?” Daryl whispered into his neck.

“I think more might actually kill me,” Jesus groaned, clutching at him tighter.

Daryl spun him around, pulling his pants down as he shoved his own slacks to his knees, using his legs to squeeze the gap between Jesus’ even tighter. Hands flat on the table, bent over as he was, Jesus felt so exposed. Jesus whimpered when Daryl slide his cock between Jesus’ legs, grabbing his hips as Jesus gripped the counter, feeling slightly guilty for the mess they were making but not enough to stop.

It was hard to keep his legs shut as tight as Daryl needed them for friction but he did, determined that the other man would feel as good as he did. 

“Daryl,” Jesus whined as Daryl continued to thrust, biting down harder on the junction between Jesus’ neck and shoulder leaving more marks. 

Daryl shouting behind him, his release spilling onto the table in front of them. Jesus slumped down onto the counter, no good for anything but sleep. He was quite literally drained.

Daryl gently lowered him, tugging his pants back around his waist, and pulled him to his chest.

“Can’t move,” Jesus grumbled.

Soft lips kissed the back of his neck as Daryl moved him to a chair at the table and sat him down.

“You should eat something.” Daryl grabbed the plate that the others had left behind.

“I know.” Jesus waved a boneless hand at Daryl, not sure if he had the strength to even lift his arms to eat.

He had never had such fantastic sex in his life. Daryl was like an addiction that he couldn’t get enough of. Jesus glanced at Daryl and knew he was falling deeply in love with the man. Daryl was everything Jesus had been looking for.

And the thought both thrilled and terrified him.

“I have no idea how we’re going to make it back to Alexandria. I can barely move,” he moaned as he picked up a fork and began to eat. Even that felt like a huge feat with how tired he was.

Daryl’s face lit up with amusement as he moved around the room finding a cloth from somewhere to clean up their mess. “Could always carry ya again. We seem ta have gotten quite good at that.”

Instead of rising to the bait, Jesus blinked at the shock of beauty before him that was Daryl’s smile. “You should smile more often. Why don’t you?”

“Why do ya ask?” Daryl replied instead of answering the question.

He shrugged. “Just curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat, ain’t anyone ever tell ya that?”

Jesus snorted. “Good thing they have nine lives then.”

“Pretty sure you’re on your last, the way ya find trouble.”

He couldn’t hide his wince at that, the words too close to home for comfort.

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. Ya know that right?” Daryl rushed to reassure him.

He didn’t, but it was easier just to nod. Nothing was certain with Daryl. Jesus didn’t even know where he truly stood with the man. Sure, they had given into temptation twice now and said they were taking it slow, but Jesus felt like something was missing. He had the sensation that he was stumbling across a precarious bridge, working his way toward something, yet part of him just knew that once they reached Alexandria again things would change. Like someone coming along and cutting the ropes when he still had a few meters left.

“Come on. Eat up, then we can go clean up,” Daryl suggested.

“Not before you clean up in there,” Rick called out with a chuckle.

Jesus’ face flushed with embarrassment and anger at himself. He had been so out of control and focused on Daryl, that he hadn’t taken the time to truly consider what a monumentally bad idea it was for them to have sex in the dining room. 

And God, they had all heard him. How was he ever going to look them in the face?

As if reading his mind, Daryl clasped his hand in his. “Don’t worry. Rick and I got to talkin’ last night when I—”

“When you were hiding?” Jesus asked, his tone teasing even as it censored the other man’s actions.

A wry but indulgent glint appeared in the man’s blue gaze. “I wasn’t hidin’...much. And yeah, then. He knows about us.”

“Still, I’d prefer to clean up the mess and then go and hide for a little while in my room, if that’s okay with you.” Jesus said, trying to ignore the way his heart skipped a beat or twelves when Daryl said ‘us’. He glanced around, seeing no real mess left now apart from the area Daryl had already stood to wipe down. He took another bite of the now-cold toast, then pushed the plate away.

Daryl peered between him and the plate. “Ya done?”

“Mhmm.”

“Ya didn’t eat much.”

“No, Mum, but I promise to have a big lunch,” he drawled sarcastically.

Standing, Jesus headed toward the door to the kitchen, hiding his smirk when he heard Daryl mutter something about him being a smartass under his breath.

Oh, the man had no idea.

The door swung open just before he reached it to reveal Rick with a shit-eating grin. “I’ll take it that you two sorted stuff out? At least, there were a lot of words being exchanged from what we could all here...”

Jesus hunched his shoulders, crimson staining his cheeks once again. He had never blushed so much in his damned life. It was getting ridiculous. “It’s official. I’m going to go hide in the room and never come out.”

“That will make it a little hard for us to get home then.”

“Right. Home” he said cautiously.

Daryl seemed to pick up on his reluctance but said nothing as the left Rick and his ridiculous sized grin behind. Jesus for his part felt as though his throat grew tighter and tighter with every step they took. Soon they would be heading back to Alexandria. Soon they would be returning to a place that would remind Daryl of everything he had lost. Would he go back to blaming Jesus again? Or did he truly mean that he no longer held Jesus at fault?

When Daryl had forgiven Jesus, he hadn’t been facing Rosita and Abraham's grief over losing their friend. He hadn’t been watching Glenn struggle to walk after the damage that was caused to his legs.

Jesus knew things were different now, and that things would change even more once they returned to Alexandria. What he didn’t know was whether it would be for better or worse. And that was the part that scared him.

*****

Daryl was curious, seeing the myriad expressions crossing Jesus’ face while making their way back to the room.

He could sense the underlying distress in the other man even after reassuring him that everything would be okay. Daryl knew that doubt came from Jesus’ innate fear of rejection and abandonment, which was something he recognized intimately.

There was only one way to prove he wasn’t going anywhere to Jesus though, and that would be for him to return to Alexandria with him and see for himself. Daryl wasn’t going to change his mind. He wouldn’t falter when he got home and had to see those who had been affected by Negan and the Saviors. He meant it when he said he no longer blamed Jesus and the Hilltop. He knew he never should have felt that way let alone let them know it. And right now he felt like a complete prick for seeing the way it had so clearly hurt and scared Jesus.

Only time would prove to Jesus, and Daryl prayed like hell that they had it. That this war wouldn’t take the other man from him. For the first time in his life, Daryl had hope. He no longer felt like he was completely broken.

And damn, that was a terrifying thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think the next chapter will be the last. Something to finish things off, leaving no doubt in Jesus' mind that Daryl is there for the long haul. Maybe an epilogue set in the future, after Negan is dead and they own the Saviors ass, because seriously, season 7 tore me apart!!!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So here is the ending that has been a long time coming. Real life made things a bit hectic for a while. I really hope you all like it!

_2 years later…_

The sun sat high in the sky as Jesus stepped out onto the porch he called home in Alexandria. The air was warm and clear, one positive thing that had come from the end of the world. 

Jesus could still faintly recall the smell of the city at night, smog and other fumes, the heavy scents that came from the abundance of restaurants just a block from his apartment. Overwhelming and not always pleasant, the end of the world had allowed for nature to take back some of its power.

Contagious laughter echoed from the park a few houses down, drawing Jesus’ from his memories. It was a small area the people of Alexandria had built for the newest generation that had begun being born now that peace had finally been found.

With Negan gone and peace treaties arranged by those who were left, the future had become something real, something tangible. 

Making his way down the front steps and toward the park, the sight that met Jesus when he got there caused a smile to stretch wide across his face. Daryl lay sprawled on the ground with at least three children climbing over an on him. The charge was being led by none other than Judith herself as she encouraged more of the younger children to follow suit. A little leader just like her dad.

“Need some help?” he asked, trying desperately not to laugh at the other man’s predicament.

The only response he received was a grunt followed by a deeply pained groaned as one of the kid’s knees hit Daryl straight in the groin. 

He winced in sympathy. “Okay, okay. I think we can all give Uncle Daryl a break, hmmm. Come on, up we get.”

Ushering the children off of Daryl, he offered him a hand up. Daryl took it and pulled himself up, bending in half when standing straight hurt too much.

“You okay?”

Daryl grunted. “Been better.”

“You know, I could make you feel a lot better,” he said with a grin and a waggle of his brows.

Flushing, Daryl shoved Jesus a little while frowning. “Can ya not say stuff like that in front of the kids, please?”

“Relax.” Jesus chuckled, reaching out to lace the fingers of his right hand with Daryl’s left. “They have no idea what we’re saying. Now come with me, I’m sure Maggie and Glenn have this.”

A nod from the pair who sat just a few meters away confirmed that they would happily take watch over the children. Not letting the other man get a word in, Jesus tugged Daryl along and all the way back to their house.

God, he loved saying that. Their house.

A year earlier when Negan had been dealt with and peace had been found, he and Daryl had made a decision to stay in Alexandria. They had spent the first year of their relationship going back and forth between Alexandria and Hilltop, supporting and protecting both places, but when time had come to truly settle down the choice had been easy.

Jesus had no interest in running Hilltop and the place he once called home not only flourished under Maggie’s leadership, but Jesus had found it no longer held that sense of home it once had.

So he and Daryl had permanently moved to Alexandria, taking over one of the homes for themselves. Jesus could still clearly remember the moment Daryl had handed him a set of keys to their new home. A smile on his face and more importantly a promise in his eyes.

This was real. This was forever.

“Where are you right now?”

Jesus blinked, glancing up at Daryl before realizing they were standing outside their home. “What?”

Daryl chuckled. “Ya disappeared on me. What were ya thinkin’ about?”

“Just us, this. What we have,” he replied honestly. “Sometimes I still have to pinch myself. It doesn’t always seem real.”

“It’s real,” Daryl whispered, burying his nose into the crook of Jesus’ neck. Daryl pulled back, cupping his face. “It’s all real.”

Jesus’ face softened. “I know. And I couldn’t be happier in this insane, chaotic world we live in. In fact…”

“Yeah?”

His eyes held a wicked gleam. “You know, today is technically an anniversary for us.”

“What?” Daryl’s eyes widened for a second before recognition filled his eyes. “Two years ago today I nearly lost you and finally told ya how I felt.”

Jesus nodded. “Yup. And I feel that’s something we should celebrate.”

“Oh really,” Daryl leered, an expression that never failed to have his cock standing at attention. “And how should we do that?”

Jesus attempted for an innocent shrug but failed miserably. “Well, we could do dinner and a movie, or if you’d rather...”

He trailed a hand along Daryl’s bicep, bringing it across his wide chest and dragging it down until he reached Daryl’s belt buckle.

Daryl’s gaze darkened as lust consumed him. “Oh, I’d rather...”

“Glad to see we’re on the same page,” he said, tugging Daryl to follow him inside the house.

“You know, I really do love you,” Daryl whispered against the back of his neck as he followed Jesus inside.

“I know,” Jesus said with no trace of doubt. It had taken time but he finally got it. Daryl loved him. He may not always say it, and he may struggle to show it on occasion, but he loved Jesus and always would. They may not truly have forever, and the world may be filled with danger and chaos at every turn, but they would have _their _forever with each other for how every long that was. “And I love you too.”__


End file.
